I'm Thankful for Snowy Owls and Remembralls

Okay.

don't judge me

This is going to sound a little strange.

But I really think if this is going to work out, we all have to be honest. I'll start.

I've never really thought of myself as a muggle. 

There. I've said it. Now, before you judge me, drop the attitude and admit that you've never considered yourself among the un-magical folk either. Don't even kid yourself.

There. Now that everyone has come clean, we can get to the point. I watched Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows, Part 1 [HP7.1] this week (twice, actually) because I feel like I've grown up with Harry, Ron and Hermione. Or better, they've grown up with me. As the movies wind down in number, and the real end is near, it seems appropriate to have a bout of nostalgia about the magical series that defined my childhood.

I became a part of the magical world in 1999. I was one of the early fans. I read and re-read Harry Potter and The Sorcerer's Stone. I was there when Harry got his letter, I was there when he stepped into Hogwarts, I was there when all he saw in the Mirror of Erised was his broken family. His troubles and fears became mine, but his friends and his triumphs also became mine. When I found out it was going to be a series, and that there were going to be six (six!) more books for me to read, and re-read, more books that needed their spines to be broken, their pages turned, their corners dog-eared, I was ecstatic. 

I read The Chamber of Secrets in less than a day; The Prisoner of Azkaban within 24 hours. Then, Goblet of Fire came out, and after I was done tearing every detail apart  - both by reading the story and having to glue the binding back together - I realized I would have to wait. I had to wait three years. But when The Order of the Phoenix came out, and it was thicker than the previous, I almost got a panic attack of excitement, and the same excitement was true for the sixth and seventh book in the subsequent years. Waiting in the morning, outside the only bookstore in Mexico that had the books in English, itching to start turning the pages and taking in more of this story, is one of my fondest memories growing up. 

Now, about half way through this phenomenon, the movies came out, and along with them came the merchandise and the marketing and all the people who found it so easy to hop on the Harry Potter bandwagon because it came with prefabricated visuals and sweet special effects. But I was excited for an entirely different reason. When the movies came out, I was going to be able to enter the magical world, and be able to close my eyes. I was going to be able to hear a favorite story develop and try to fill the shoes of the most powerful images ever created: the ones I created for myself. I wanted to see the movie step up to the challenge, and I'm not gonna lie, I think they did it admirably. I'll never say that the movies are even remotely close to being comparable to the books. No way. Not ever. But I will say, that as an entirely separate institution, the Harry Potter movie phenomenon has been one of the reasons I still hold faithful to the storytelling industry that is the motion pictures. 

All of these things, the books, the movie, the super-soft hoodie that still hangs in my closet, are all parts of this, all parts of what history will only remember of the popular culture stint known as the Harry Potter Phenomenon. But on this thanksgiving day, I am thankful for Harry, Ron and Hermione, Dumbledore's beard, Norbert the Norwegian Ridgeback, pumpkin juice, sneakoscpes, Bertie Bott's Every Flavoured Beans, snowy owls and remembralls.